A Continental Breakfast
by SilentProtagonist000
Summary: Green has the same thing for breakfast every morning. Red doesn't like that. For being a mute, Red can be awfully opinionated. Originalshipping, Red/Green.


Every morning for breakfast, Green Oak had a bowl of freakin' oatmeal. When he arose at his usual time—five o'clock in the morning—he made a beeline for the kitchen and scooped one cup of dry oatmeal and milk into a bowl and nuked it in the microwave before sitting down to eat. Since childhood, oatmeal had been his thing, and nobody could ever tell him differently—even if he was travelling out of town, he always packed the instant stuff in a plastic bag, alongside a few tablespoons of brown sugar (because Green absolutely could not stand rubbery, cement-tasting cereal) in his suitcase and drew weird looks from airport security if they needed to search his luggage. Point being, Green adored his oatmeal—and living alone gave him the liberty to eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Well, when he _was_ living alone, anyway.

Now he couldn't do anything.

And apparently, that means not being able to eat oatmeal at a godly hour of the morning.

Two years prior to the morning in which Viridian City Gym Leader Green Oak did not get his bowl of freakin' oatmeal, Red—his best friend and rival in their years of Pokemon training, then legendary due to his status as the Kanto champion—lost to the reigning Johto champion atop the frigid Mount Silver. Somewhat despondent from this defeat, Red descended from the summit, where he had been without any contact whatsoever to the outside world for five months. He arrived back in Pallet Town with much fanfare from its citizens, proud that an offspring of the tiny village had achieved incredible heights.

One year and eight months prior to that morning, Red and Green went in a closet to doodle on paper and ended up making out. They didn't speak to each other for three weeks after due to the sheer irony of their choice of location.

One year and seven months prior, Green kissed Red.

One year and four months prior, Green realized he'd been in love with Red since the beginning.

One year and three months prior, Green revealed this to Red and Red attacked him in a storm of delighted passion. They ended up slick with a sheen of sweat and naked on the roof of Green's house, no longer mutual virgins.

One year prior, Green was appointed the leader of the Viridian City Gym and got his own place in Viridian City. When he invited Red to move in with him, Red eagerly accepted.

And today, he was seriously regretting that.

It was a Friday morning, and Green was so excited for this that he felt like going out and getting "TGIF" tattooed on his ass. When one was particularly relieved or enlivened by something, it was only natural to have that urge. Of course, Green actually did get Red's face tattooed on his ass when they first got together (and he was quite possibly drunk off his rocker), but Red made him get it removed because it unnerved him to see his very face glaring at him when they were intimate.

Leaping out of bed, Green pecked his snoozing lover on the forehead before running a marathon in slow-motion toward the kitchen, flipping his sweat-sprinkled hair in an exaggerated and dramatic fashion. His movie moment over, Green trekked to the cabinet and withdrew his usual ingredients. When he discovered the Miltank milk sitting by the cherry Pop-Tarts, he wondered how long it had been in there, unrefrigerated and souring for wild Ratatta to scour for. He blamed it internally on Red, took out the milk, unscrewed the lid, and sniffed. When he decided it didn't smell too horrible, he poured some in his oatmeal bowl and waited for the onset of dysentery.

After Green Oak had cooked his breakfast in the microwave and garnished the meal with brown sugar, he perceived a drowsy sigh from the doorless birch archway that lead to the kitchen. Turning his head in mid-grab for a spoon from the silverware drawer, Green saw Red. The boy's short midnight locks were mussed from sleep and his novelty t-shirt that proclaimed "Why Go in the Front Door When You Can Shortcut Through the Back?" crinkled from his shifting. (Blue had bought it for his birthday as a gag gift. Green didn't find it funny.) Unfortunately for Green and his obsession with being sanitary, Red was not wearing any underwear.

Sighing, Green placed his spoon on the counter. This was not the first time Red had interrupted his dawn peace and freakin' oatmeal because he was about to go outside with no clothes on. "Red," he said calmly. "You aren't wearing any pants. Again."

Red, being a mute, couldn't respond, and instead just shrugged and shuffled over to the same cabinet Green had been in earlier and retracted a granola bar. Trundling over to where Green was standing, Red took a seat at the kitchen counter and unwrapped his bar to take a bite, chewing slowly.

"Go put on some clothes," Green told him.

Red ignored Green and swallowed his food.

"Dude, this is disgusting."

Red gave him a look.

"No, I am not turned on by your nudity."

Snorting skeptically, Red inserted the rest of his granola bar into his mouth with a semi-satisfied popping noise and crumpled the shimmering wrapper in his fist. Arching his arm back, he launched the wad at Green, where it deflected off the side of the gym leader's temple. Turning around, Red kissed his palm noisily and slapped his butt, indicating to Green that he could kiss him where the sun did not shine.

"Classy," Green commented before putting the rest of his half-eaten bite of oatmeal into his mouth.

Frowning, Red spied the oatmeal that Green was so messily consuming. Disgusted by the fact that Green Oak ate freakin' oats for breakfast every morning—probably because his surname was "Oak" and there was also an "oa" at the beginning of "oatmeal," and only Green caught tricky pedantic quirks like that—Red walked over to his boyfriend, reached for the bowl, and quickly pitched it against the wall. The wet food hit the edifice with a sloppy isplat/i and began to leach down the drywall like radioactive, gooey waste. It was very fortunate that the particular bowl that Green had chosen that morning had been a leftover Styrofoam one from the "Congratulations on Coming Out of the Closet" party the other gym leaders of Kanto had thrown for him and Red and not a classic ceramic bowl. Red's outburst would have been much more destructive.

All hell instantly broke loose, then froze over as Green whirled around in his seat, gaping with amazed repulsion at Red, his spoon still in his mouth and his hand still on the handle of the utensil. Stuck in his position, Green was physically unable to react to whatever had just happened as he first tried to swallow his mouthful of oatmeal. Red assessed the damage he had done, nodded with satisfaction, and kissed Green on the cheek warmly before proceeding to pivot on his heel and walk out the front door into the busy streets of Viridian City.

With no pants.

Removing the spoon from his mouth, Green's jaw plummeted. Red had done unusual things before without warning—like punching a hole in a keg at a drinking party to prevent everyone from getting drunk and purposefully burning a cake intended for Sabrina—but this was insane. Why would Red wreck his breakfast like that? How cruel and inhumane was this man? And why was he so spontaneous? Was it because of autism? Or attention deficit disorder?

"RED!" Green screamed out the open doorway. "ARE YOU AUSTISTIC?"

No answer.

"YOU OWE ME A BOWL OF OATMEAL, ASSHOLE!"

Still no answer. Red was long gone.

Suddenly, Green's Pokegear buzzed as an incoming text entered his phone. Reaching across the granite counter now sullied with bits of soggy oatmeal, Green noticed that the message was from Red, as texting was one form of communication that entailed writing that Red did not mind.

_You love my nudity._

((()))

_TEXT MESSAGE FROM LANCE_

_8:53 A.M._

_BODY: Hey Green. In Viridian Pokemart for cape order. Saw Red go by w/no pants? Are you aware?_

_MESSAGE DELIVERED TO: GREEN INBOX (555-555-4904)_

_TEXT MESSAGE FROM GREEN_

_9:01 A.M._

_BODY: Yea. He's out for more oatmeal b/c he killed my breakfast. I think._

_MESSAGE DELIVERED TO: LANCE INBOX (555-555-0581)_

_TEXT MESSAGE FROM LANCE_

_9:05 A.M._

_BODY: Hung like a horse. Good for you ;)_

_MESSAGE DELIVERED TO: GREEN INBOX (555-555-4904)_

_TEXT MESSAGE FROM GREEN_

_9:12 A.M._

_BODY: Go die._

_MESSAGE DELIVERED TO: LANCE INBOX (555-555-4904)_


End file.
